


The Mess

by Winklepicker



Series: 31 Days of Porn 2017 [9]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Techienician - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Smut, techie is a filthy boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winklepicker/pseuds/Winklepicker
Summary: Techie is a dirty boy. He is determined to make a mess all over Matt as well.





	The Mess

“Mattie, Mattie look!”

Techie twirled and twirled in the tiny pink tutu and the silver sparkly stilettos he’d found in a garbage bin. His spindly arms were raised and his head thrown back as he cackled like a little demon.

Matt abandoned his book, _The Philosophy of Radar Repair,_ and watched his mad darling spin, admiring the tent in his bright orange pants as his cock strained to join in the dance.

“You look so pretty, baby.”

Techie dropped his arms and set his eyes on Matt. He clutched at the hem of the tutu and flapped it up and down as he swayed side to side.

“As pretty as you?” he asked, tipping his head to one side.

“I’m not pretty.”

Techie frowned. “I don’t like lies Mattie.”

“What? I’m not.”

Techie pouted. And when Techie pouted Matt knew there were a number of ways the conversation could end depending on how the pout had come about in the first place. It was like a choose-your-own-adventure only much more thrilling.

“Okay. I’m pretty?” Matt struggled to twist his mouth around the words.

“It’s not a question.”

“I’m pretty.”

Techie skipped one-two on the teetering heels and straddled Matt’s lap. He couldn’t abide his Mattie thinking less of himself than he should. It gave Techie an ache around his collar and a burning in his belly. He would not have it. Not when the man in front of him was his entire universe with a few extra stars and comets sprinkled on top.

“Yes you are.” He kissed Matt on the nose and lifted the tutu up to his thin bare chest. “Guess what I’m thinking about?” He took Matt’s hand and cupped it around the bulge in his pants.

Hot and soft and hard all at once in his hand, Matt gently squeezed and massaged. “Baby, that skirt smells like stale caf and garbage water.”

Techie peeled Matt’s hand away and guided it to his face. “Does that smell better?”

Matt huffed a laugh and then inhaled deep. “It smells like you. And me.” He wrapped his big arms around Techie’s waist and yanked him closer. “And what we did last night.”

Techie squealed and threw his own arms around Matt’s neck, threading his fingers through the thick blond curls at the nape of his neck, and burying his face in the damp sticky skin below Matt’s ear. He rolled and pushed his hips in deep slow waves.

Matt felt the puffs of Techie’s breath on his neck. They came faster and faster in time with each rock of his hips as the head of his cock—still trapped in its orange prison—caught on the knot of Matt’s uniform where the sleeves tied around his hips.

The puffs became whispers. In the few lucid moments Matt wasn’t overcome by the feeling of Techie’s arse sliding back and forth on his own impressive erection, he managed to make out the whispered chant of, “You’re so pretty Mattie,” peppered with the faintest of moans and mews and peeps.

Matt squeezed his arms tight and snuffled into the crook of Techie’s neck. They inhaled each other’s sweat and skin and dirt as they rocked against each other until Techie’s movements stuttered. He wriggled his hands into the humid land between their bodies and untied and unfastened Matt’s uniform and pushed it down down.

“Will you come for me Mattie?”

Matt nodded, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed. Techie clambered off Matt’s lap, pulled off his filthy orange pants, and held them up in a ball for Matt to bite down on. Then he pulled the waistband of Matt’s work issue pants back and peeked inside.

Matt peeked down too. His hand was poised to obey Techie’s wishes but it was batted aside as Techie reached his hand in instead, one hand on Matt the other on himself.

“I’m gonna make such a big mess Mattie.” He began stroking faster. “And then you’re going to make an even bigger mess, like you always do.”

Matt whimpered around the orange fabric in his mouth. He let it soak up his spit and sucked it back out, tasting the salt of Techie with it.

Techie hummed a marching song to the slick rhythmic slide of his hands. He bent and bit down on his pants in Matt’s mouth. He tugged them away and spat them out, then licked and sucked at Matt’s lips, bumping their noses as he stuttered in his strokes.

“I’m gonna come Mattie, I’m gonna come,” he said in a breathless whine. He aimed, working himself in the blur of his hand until with a deep drawn out moan he felt his release teeter for a pained moment and then burst. He spurted hot and hard into Matt’s pants and slicked the way further as he regained his rhythm on Matt’s cock.

Matt’s own chest heaved while his hands blindly clasped at Techie’s hips. Techie bent down and rested his forehead on Matt’s, his hand picking up a wet pace. “Come Mattie, come Mattie, come, come, come,” he sang.

And Mattie came. His hips bucked, his arse clenched, and his come soaked into his pants and smeared together with Techie’s.

Techie drew out his hand and admired his disheveled darling. He clasped Matt’s face and kissed him hard, wiping their mess into his hair.

“You’re going to be so wet at work today Mattie.” Techie threw his head back and cackled like the little ginger demon he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Atlin Merrick promised to bat Domhnall's eyelashes at me if I wrote this. I'll be expecting those batting eyelashes in the mail any day now. 
> 
> No pressure. 
> 
> *rubs hands in impatient glee*


End file.
